


by any other name

by alovelylight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Percy is a Dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:22:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alovelylight/pseuds/alovelylight
Summary: Their knees barely pressed together under the diner table, but they brushed against each other enough for Percy to be a little nervous, a little jumpy.





	by any other name

Their knees barely pressed together under the diner table, but they brushed against each other enough for Percy to be a little nervous, a little jumpy. He was certain that he would squirm under the sincerity of Oliver’s gaze if they hadn’t been friends at this point in time. Then again, their friendship was never completely pure—there was always a straying glance, a long-lasting squeeze on the waist, a not-so-accidental kiss.

Oliver, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. He was wearing a blue _Goblet Heartlet_ t-shirt that fit snugly over his toned shoulders; those shoulders that Percy tried not to think about too hard lest he blushed himself into oblivion. He drummed his fingers against his lap, silently willing the waiter to bring over their damn menus already.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked, eyebrows creased in concern. “You just seem a bit on edge.”

“I’m always on edge, Oliver. As you’re so peculiarly fond of reminding me.”

“Yes, that was the problem. You don’t seem on edge _enough_ ,” he grinned. Percy pretended to glare at him, but that faded quickly. He found himself smiling back.

“I confess that I am skittish,” he said, not quite meeting Oliver’s eyes. Those very pretty and very brown eyes of his. “I haven’t been on a date since my courtship with Penelope, and well, it’s _you._ ”

“You always saw me as a friend, got it,” Oliver nodded. “Tell you what, let’s pretend this isn’t a date and talk like old mates, yeah? Would that help?”

“No, I like you. This _is_ a date. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“Huh?”

“That’s from _Romeo and Juliet_ , this famous play I read about in Muggle Studies,” Percy explained, secretly wishing that he wasn’t thinking about school all the time. “It’s about these two young lovers who are forbidden to be together because of a long-standing feud between their families. And the universe.”

“The _universe_ forbids them from being together?”

“They’re star-crossed lovers destined to be together in death,” Percy sighed. “Everything in that play is supremely dramatic. Romeo’s and Juliet’s deaths managed to unite their families and save their city from turmoil, but they shouldn’t have been driven to such horrendous measures. It’s their parents’ responsibility to ensure that the cycle of terror doesn’t contaminate the next generation, and not to _mention_ that the roots of the feud aren’t even mentioned in the text, which I suppose is part of the thematic commentary that William Shakespeare was making about the senseless influence of violence—” He paused, recognizing that glazed look Oliver always got whenever he delved into one of his rants. “You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Not at all!” Oliver immediately reached out to put a warm hand over his, and Percy’s heart jolted awake. “I love it when you’re passionate. Whether it’s about cauldron bottoms, or stuffy books, or obscure Muggle plays, I think it’s the most enchanting thing ever.”

“Well, Shakespeare isn’t really obscure...” He didn’t move his hand from Oliver’s and he certainly didn’t ignore the word _enchanting_ now dancing across his mind _._ How Oliver could speak the way he did—as if his adoration for Percy was natural and obvious—was beyond him. It flattered Percy as much as it made him feel like a rubbish date.

“You look good,” he blurted. Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Not that you don’t usually look good—you always do—but I especially realized that now.”

“I hope that’s not the only reason you agreed to go out with me!” He playfully knocked his knee against Percy’s. “I didn’t get rejected on Christmas morning just for that.”

Percy blushed, thinking back at the memory. “If that was the sole basis of my attraction, I would’ve said yes. Trust me.”

He remembered their first kiss as though it was his favorite passage in an Oscar Wilde novel (Muggles truly produced the best writers). He and Oliver were the only sixth-year Gryffindor students to stay at school during Christmas break. Those lazy, hazy days blended together as they trailed aimlessly around the school grounds, reading to each other under a canopy of leaves and flying through hoops with the sky in their veins. Percy couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to be free.

On Christmas morning, Oliver had jumped onto Percy’s bed to remind him that it was indeed Christmas morning and that he better get his arse out of bed for the gift exchange. His breath ghosted over his cheek and he was so near, so warm, so full of boyish energy that Percy could kiss him. So with deceptive cobwebs of sleep in his eyes, he pressed his lips against the corner of his mouth.

Before Percy knew what was happening, Oliver craned his neck to give him a searing snog. Their morning breaths mingled together, and it should be disgusting by that very nature, but he liked it. He liked the roughness of Oliver’s mouth, liked the contrast of his soft tongue between his lips.

But he pulled away as soon as he remembered Penelope. Penny, who was the opposite of Oliver in every way: calming where he was exciting, quiet where he was booming, scholarly where he was tactical. Percy was drawn to them both, but duty triumphed over passion. Those values had never come into conflict before—he was passionate about his duties, and dutiful towards his passions—and his heart broke in a way he couldn’t comprehend.

It didn’t help matters that he and Penny separated at the end of sixth year, and the source of Percy’s romantic frustrations became irrelevant. But by then it was too late, because Oliver was going back to Edinburgh for the summer, and Percy didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted.

So it was a surprise to both when he had approached Oliver to ask him if there was still a chance or even the possibility of a chance between them. Oliver’s face lit up as though Percy predicted he would win the Quidditch Cup; he was the sort to take as many chances as he could.

Now they were sitting on opposite sides of the booth, knees grazing but not touching, and he wondered how on Earth this was something other people did with ease. They ordered and Oliver still had his hand settled on Percy’s, apparently indifferent about what the waiter thought about them.

“The waiter was giving you looks, by the way,” said Oliver. 

“What?” he laughed. “You’re having me on.”

Oliver grinned. “Oh, he definitely has a thing for redheads. He just craned his neck to look at you again. I should probably ward him off soon.”

“Wouldn’t it be more likely that he was looking at _you_?” Percy arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one with the body of a seasoned Quidditch player.”

“And you’re bloody gorgeous,” said Oliver. Percy felt a crimson flush spread on his cheeks. “I’m not kidding around, Percy.”

“I never knew you to kid around.” When said waiter returned with Percy’s black coffee and Oliver’s cocoa, he did seem to glance in Percy’s direction, but only for a split-second. Nothing to judge his attraction upon.

“No, but you seem to think I’m teasing whenever I compliment you.”

“I’m simply not accustomed to being complimented without a hint of sarcasm or irony to the matter.”

“No sarcasm or irony here.” Oliver held Percy’s hand up to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “I couldn’t risk that with us.”

“Oh.” He was certain that he blushed again; damn his Weasley genes. “You’re too charming for your own good.”

“You’re too beautiful for your own good.”

“Oliver!” He wanted to kiss the stupid grin out of his mouth, but they were in a public place and their classmates could wander in at any moment. He glanced out the frost-stained window of the diner, searching for any familiar faces (specifically, the shit-eating grins of his twin brothers).

“If it makes you feel better,” Oliver was saying, “this is my first date.”

“Surely that’s not true,” said Percy. “I know for a fact you’ve been asked out dozens of times. Didn’t you go to Puddifoot’s with Adriana Higgins in fifth year?”

Oliver visibly shuddered. “Pink frills and artificial flowers are _not_ my idea of a good time. Besides, I wasn’t out back then; that hardly counted in the grand scheme of things.”

“Fair point.” He tried not to sound too pleased, but must’ve failed, since Oliver was smiling at him knowingly. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

“You can never let me down.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments I'm thirsty for validation


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